Sunday
"Walk?"
Marcus raised his eyes from his laptop, "What?"
His wife frowned. It was her impatient frown. The frown with the soft furrow of the brow, pursing of the lips, slight tilting of the head and an ever so gentle pop of her right eyebrow. "Do... you... want... to... go... for... a walk?" she queried again with slow mocking emphasis on every word. She raised her eyebrow just a little higher.
Marcus glanced out the living room's picture window. A gentle snow was drifting about swirling in the pink hues of the setting sun. "But," he began hoarsely, "This presentation for tomorrow," he gestured urgently to his screen, "it's really important. You know I'd love to but..." The breeze whipped the flakes into a twirling waltz across the front yard. His wife's expression had slumped into disappointment. "Oh that's not fair," he started again, "You know how it is at work, one screw up and poof: no more bills paid and no more food on the table." He glanced out the window again. It was like gazing into a hand-painted snow globe tumbling with flakes and glowing with vibrant hues of color. A deep sigh escaped Marcus and he turned back toward his wife forcing a smile, "Fine, okay sure. I'll come too." She smiled a little and turned to fetch her mittens. "I mean it's only money right," Marcus whispered to himself watching her walk away. He closed his laptop, stood to follow her.
"Emily, where's my gloves?" Marcus was tossing the contents of the outerwear basket all around the hallway.
Emily was already outside catching snowflakes on her tongue, "On the top shelf Marcus."
"Well, what are they doing up there?" he muttered spotting his brown faux leather winter gloves. "Alright, I'm coming," he announced walking over and away from the mess and closing the front door behind him. Emily immediately grabbed a gloved hand between her mittens and dragged Marcus across the front yard to the road's edge.
The eastern horizon was already sinking into darkness contrasting the brilliant fire in the west. Large fluffy snowflakes were fluttering down from a cotton ball carpet of clouds scattered across the sky. Each cloud catching a slightly different hue of the sun's radiance.
"What a beautiful evening Marcus. Not one to be glued to work."
"No, I suppose not. As long as you don't mind a bare pantry or a sudden lack of power," Marcus replied. Yet he knew she was absolutely right. This was certainly one of those very special moments in life to be utterly soaked in.
"Oh your presentation can wait till later." Emily turned and started up the road. Despite being not much more than a country lane, the day's commuter traffic had already packed the moist snow into a rut ridden slurry of ice and muck. Wishing he had slightly higher cuffed boots, Marcus tread carefully along the more powdery shoulder of the road impulsively kicking off the snow clumps from his boots every few steps.
Unexpectedly he endured a heavy thump and puff of white slush square to his chest, "Aw! Ow!" he turned quickly only to get another snowball across his neck and shoulders. He gasped as the icy fingers of snow melt trickled under his collar and along his skin.
Emily was grinning widely, "Cheer up Mr. Grumpy Pants."
Marcus finally cracked an honest smile. Emily was always ready for a bit of fun and thoroughly enjoyed life's beauty. Pressure and responsibility tumbled as easily from her shoulders as it stuck like crazy glue to his. He needed her balance to keep his sanity in the world. He felt his eyes moisten. He loved her so very much.
He bent down and grabbed a glove full of snow. "Even so, retaliation was necessary," he thought crushing the wet powder into a spherical projectile. But she was off, already sprinting down the road, laughing at the sport of it. Marcus lobbed the snowball clumsily toward her retreating back. It missed way wide of the mark.
She stopped running and was laughing even harder, "Pathetic Marcus!"
"These hands are for coding, not throwing Emily!" he retorted knowing further engagement in a snowball fight would not end well for him. Instead he sought a compromise and a settling down of the situation. He walked casually through the powder toward his smiling wife sticking out his elbow as he approached. She immediately reached out and clung to the crook falling into lock step with him.
They continued to walk a while together in silence reveling in the moment, feeling the brisk air and its pricks of cold as snowflakes struck and melted against their cheeks. The hues in the west were gradually cooling from fires to embers. The reds and oranges fading to peaches and roses. The dark cloak of night was starting to draw over them.
"Let's get up to the next farm before turning back," Emily suggested.
Instinctively Marcus responded, "Oh, I don't know. It's getting dark and," he could feel her pleading, "but yah, okay that sounds like a plan."
The last faint glow of sunset was fading on the horizon as they reached the Shepard's farm and turned to head back home. The snowflakes were invisible in the dark, but continued to swirl as moths around the Shepard's porch light. The moon was playing hide and seek amid the drifting clouds providing an occasional shimmering contrast for their slow walk toward their house.
Marcus' worrying side continued to pop out as they trudged, "Careful Emily, that ditch is pretty steep." She was draped in shadow and although he couldn't see her face he certainly felt the shockwaves off her up rolled eyes. Even so within moments he felt it necessary to continue, "Are we still on the shoulder? The ground is feeling more compact here." Just as Marcus finished his nervous observation distant headlights of a car behind them illuminated their surroundings twinkling off the flurry of flakes. "Oh, see, see," Marcus nudged Emily, "See we are in the middle of the road that's where. That's safe isn't it?"
She glanced over at him mockingly, "It's a good thing he had his lights on."
They were nearing their driveway as the car finally caught up with them. Marcus heard the driver adjust their accelerator when a sudden burst of blinding pain erupted along the back of his legs up through his back and tore into his skull. He crumpled down onto one knee wincing. His eyes shut tight while a dizzying sparkle of light raced across the dark side of his lids.
Emily dropped down beside him her voice filled with worry, "Marcus, what is it?"
"Oh, oh it hurts," he muttered between the flashes of agony.
"What hurts?"
"Everything!"
"Oh Marcus, what can I do?" her arm was draped across his shoulders as his chest heaved with shuddering breaths.
But there was nothing to be done. As suddenly as the fierce pain had set it was ebbing away leaving Marcus with a dull ache across the back of his head. He opened his eyes to a deeply concerned expression on Emily's face. It was pale and ghostly in the moonlight. "I'll be okay Emily. It seems to be clearing now." He scrambled back up to his feet. "Oh that was most disconcerting." The road was dark again the vehicle gone.
"Marcus, that's not normal."
"No, I suppose not," he replied trying to brush off her concern, "It must be all the stress of this presentation tomorrow."
"Maybe," Emily started unconvinced, "But, I'm still going to book you an appointment with Dr. Sommer as soon as possible." She paused and tried to look Marcus in the eyes, "Are you sure you are okay?"
"Yes. It's just a dull ache in my head now. Let's just get inside."
"Maybe it's a migraine thing?"
"I don't know Emily. It's just weird."
She gripped his arm and guided him across the front yard to the house.
Monday
"Hi honey, how'd the presentation go?" Emily tossed her dish rag onto the kitchen counter.
"Surprisingly well," replied Marcus pulling off his coat and shoes. She slipped in for an embrace. Her face melted into his chest. He inhaled her blossom scented hair.
She suddenly looked up from his chest, "How's the head?"
"Better, thanks."
She frowned suspiciously and pulled away, "Well I still booked an appointment with Dr. Sommer for you. Friday, at noon, so you have no excuse."
"Yes I do. That's my lunch time."
"Exactly!" She reached in for a second helping of hug.
Friday
"I'm home! Sorry I'm late." Marcus braced for the usual dinner is cold and where were you lecture.
Emily popped off the sofa, "That's fine Marcus. Supper still needs a few minutes longer." She shuffled over for her hello embrace.
Slightly off his guard Marcus paused before closing the hug. "You won't believe what happened today."
"First, Marcus," Emily interrupted, "what did Dr. Sommer say?"
"Oh yah that," Marcus began again switching gears.
"Oh don't, oh yah that, me Marcus," she frowned up at him.
"Oh no, I went as instructed," he smiled, "He said it was certainly an odd episode but that everything seems perfectly fine now and if it happens again that he will order a CT scan. Chalked it up to stress, I suppose."
"Hmm, well that's good. I've been worried all week."
"Yes, well, then there's this other tidbit of news," Marcus began yet again, "It's the reason I'm late and all."
"Oh?" Emily adjusted her expression to quizzical.
"Well, you see," he chuckled, "The funny thing is, today, I got a promotion!"
Emily pulled away in disbelief, "What?"
"Yah, I know crazy!"
"Why? I mean, great! That's wonderful. Why?"
"Well, that presentation on Monday. Apparently it came off just the right way and my boss' boss strongly recommended me for a new role as a director of server-side authentication and security."
"Wow, okay I have no idea what that is, but wow!"
"Well, it means I now have a small team of people working directly for me. Well, small like eight people. But I get an increase in salary."
"Cool! How much?"
"Um, well, I'm a bit embarrassed actually."
"How much Marcus?" Emily's eyes were growing large.
Marcus continued to milk the moment, "Oh yes, and I get a wider array of benefits. Also more stock options."
"Seriously!"
He grinned, "It's six figures Emily!" She let out a squeal of excitement. "And the first digit isn't a one, but one plus another one!"
"Oh my god Marcus! That is," she counted on her fingers, "Five times more than you were making! Oh my god!" She rushed in for a huge embrace.
"I know crazy."
"Well, you know what," came the muffled voice buried in his chest, "It just felt like something wonderful was about to happen. Call it my intuition. But I've actually got your favorite meal in the oven!"
"Oh?" Marcus felt his tongue slosh around in saliva as he deeply inhaled the wonderful scents from the kitchen.
"Baked Cheesy Noodle Surprise!"
"Oh boy! I love Cheesy Noodle Surprise! Awesome Emily!"
"Baked!" she emphasised with a grin.
Next Week
Marcus felt strangely satisfied as he turned off the highway and onto their country lane. It had been a few days into his promotion and despite his propensity for worry and his initial misgivings about the additional responsibilities the new role was baring down on him, he was presently surprised to be finding the new position almost comfortable. It was as if he had always been meant for a position in middle management.
He signalled off the lane and onto his driveway where his little old broken down car found itself dwarfed by monstrous four wheel drive extended cab truck occupying nearly the entire strip of asphalt. It was jet black in color with sparkling chrome detailing. "Whoa, who the devil owns that?" Marcus jealously mused. It was perfectly clean on the outside and as he passed the driver side window, on the inside. Not a scratch to be found. "That's quite the machine," he sighed as he walked up toward the house.
"Emily, I'm home. Sorry I'm late again."
"That's fine. I'm just happy to see you."
As she approached Marcus dropped his voice to a whisper, "Uh, I saw the rig out front. Who's here?"
"Oh, I've got a surprise for you," was the teasing reply. Marcus frowned. He was not overly fond of unannounced visits. Especially those who arrived in envy inducing vehicles. "Close your eyes," she continued.
Marcus was now quite concerned, but he complied with her request. "Who could it be for all this ceremony?" he mumbled to himself.
She led him forward past the kitchen and into the living room. He was too nervous to peak.
"Alright, open your eyes."
Marcus glanced around the room. No one was standing or seated. The room was deserted. It was just the two of them. He glanced over at Emily confused. She rolled her eyes and nodded toward the coffee table. There in the middle was a licence plate. Numbers A L L Y O U R S. He blinked and then looked back at Emily. Still confused.
She was grinning and holding out a key in the palm of her hand. "I know you've always wanted one. So I figured now that we can afford the payments it might be just the right time to own one."
Marcus stared in disbelief. He could only manage a stutter, "That... beautiful machine... out there....?" he paused.
"Yup! It's," she pointed at the licence plate.
Marcus eagerly grabbed the keys from Emily. With a whoop he jumped into the air. "It's mine? Oh my god, it's mine!" he shouted dancing around the room. He reached over and embraced Emily. "Wow. Just wow. Thank you!" He backed away. "Oh I've got to go take it out for a drive! Please tell me supper isn't ready yet?"
Emily smiled, "I haven't cooked anything yet. I was hoping you might take me out somewhere nice in your new wheels."
"Done!" shouted Marcus as he ran out of the house toward his new rig.
Next Month
It had been a month since their walk in the snow. Marcus and Emily were laying together on the sofa enjoying a very lazy afternoon. Marcus' thoughts drifted to the sudden pain of that evening, "Stress. Surely." Amazingly, he had not had a single event since his promotion. Not even a headache. In fact, Marcus was even starting to enjoy working.
Emily looked up from his chest and interrupted his drifting thoughts with a topic he had been carefully deflecting for years, "Marcus, I've been thinking about children again."
Marcus kept his eyes closed hoping feigning sleep would derail the conversation. Emily, unconvinced, carried on, "Well, I've been thinking since you got this wonderful promotion things have been really pleasant here at home. We actually have savings for a change. We seem to have more time for each other. It's been really nice." Marcus searched his imagination for some useful reason not to have children. Unfortunately, he was drawing blanks. "So I've been thinking, you know, maybe I'm actually okay with not having children." Marcus' eyes flashed open. He looked quizzically down to Emily. "Well, you know I kind of want to maybe put more energy into my own studio. Paint more. Maybe even sell some of my works. What do you think?"
Marcus barely hesitated, "What would you need?"
Summer
Marcus was leaning on the door frame of his wife's new art studio. It had previously been the largest bedroom. Leaning against each piece of furniture, covering nearly the whole floor, except for a thin trail to the door, and hanging from nearly every bit of wall space was a sweeping tour of her increasing mastery of oil painting. There before Marcus was an ever increasing attention to detail, a deeper understanding of hue variance and a clearer color pallet. "You know, I'm kind of jealous that you get to do so much creative expression Emily." Emily glance up from her latest canvas toward Marcus. "So I've been thinking, maybe I might try my hand at my own art."
"Oh?" she mused still flourishing brushstrokes to the canvas.
"Yah, you know how they say everyone has a book in them. Well, I want to explore mine. I'm going to try to become a writer!"
She smiled turning her attention back to the easel before her, "You have a novel in you, do you?"
"Maybe. Well, I hope so. I certainly don't have a song or a picture in me."
"It sounds ambitious."
"Yah, I know. But look where your ambitions have lead you." He waved his hand theatrically across the art of her room.
"Well Marcus," she changed the subject and grabbed her thin signing brush, "you are just in time." Emily twirled the bristles into some thinned paint. Turning back to the painting she continued, "I'm just adding my name to this one and I know you've been dying to have a peek at it for weeks now." She swirled the paint into a careful ES. "Ready?" Her eyes twinkled as she set down the brush and gripped the sides of the canvas.
"I certainly am. You've teased me enough about it. Something from our past?"
She gingerly slid it off the easel and slowly turned it to face Marcus. There shaped expertly with many perfect shades of oil was their snowy evening walk together. It was captured as if by a camera. Her strokes gave life to the snow falling. The blaze of the sunset silhouetting two figures strolling linked at the elbow down a pristine white country lane.
"Emily," Marcus gasped as he started stepping into the studio for a closer look, "the road was a lot more mucky and rutted than that." She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Seriously, though, I think this is your absolute finest painting yet."
"Thank you. I want to frame it and hang it in the bedroom."
"Hmm, I'm not sure these colors will match those walls?"
"They will after I repaint the bedroom."
"Wow Emily, you know I really think you might be getting to the point where you could start showing these off in galleries. Maybe even sell a few to collectors."
"Aw thanks Marcus. I still think I have a way to go yet!"
"Well, sure, absolutely. I'm glad you think so, because that means we get to keep this crappy one."
Next Year
"Hurry up Marcus. We are going to be late!" shouted Emily from the front door. "The opening is at seven o'clock sharp. I have to be there!"
"Just a moment," he shot back from the living room, "I'll be out in a moment. You know they said they would email their decision by five." Their year had been pretty much a blur.
"Oh come on Marcus," was the terse urgent reply. It was Emily's opening night at Tzaser's Fine Art House. Twenty of her best pieces were currently hanging on the pure white walls of the gallery awaiting an unknown number of art lovers to soak in their colorful beauty. It was only a half hour drive into town, but her nerves were getting the better of her.
Marcus on the other hand was impatiently glued to his inbox, repeatedly pressing refresh. "Come on. Come on," he repeated at the screen. Today, coincidentally, was also the culmination of Marcus' own toil of love. Well perhaps not quite love, but more like the extraction of teeth. Yet when he had provided the final draft of his novel to his agent it was suggested that this first book, Woods of Pine, had an excellent shot at publication.
The little clock in the corner of his screen ticked over to five o'clock. "Come on Christopher, where's my message?" He pressed refresh again. There in bold was a new message. It was from his agent. "Emily. Emily! It's here!" There was no reply from the hallway. He opened it. He read just the first line and slowly closed his laptop.
Emily was already in the truck waiting impatiently. Marcus shut the front door and joined her in the cab. "Well?" she snapped, perhaps a bit more than she meant to, "Sorry, nerves."
"I know," Marcus reassured her putting a hand on her shoulder. "Emily, I'm going to be published!"
Next Decade
Marcus' attention was drawn to one small news panel amid the sea of flicking images illuminating an entire wall of his study. His eye had caught onto a very odd headline in the lower third beneath one of the many talking heads scatter across the digital interface. A gorgeous interface which, incidentally, had been generously paid for by his loyal fans in Uzbekistan as they lead the world in sales of his fourth novel, Scarlet Tribute.
As was typical, a large space in the center of the wall was occupied by changing live street level video feeds of famous world locations where Marcus had many of his fondest memories while visiting during whirlwind book tours. As he lowered his pen down to his desk he gestured with a hand toward the wall. Instantly the small pane was switched with the live street view. "Focus and volume," spoke Marcus to the room. The rest of the wall dimmed leaving the headline and a well-dressed news anchor.
"A remarkable breakthrough has just occurred," started the anchor.
"Emily. Emily! Come quick! Hurry!" shouted Marcus his attention to the news cast unbroken.
"Scientists working for the European Space Agency, Cambridge and the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute are currently at a joint press conference to announce their discovery."
"What? What is it Marcus," Emily replied breathlessly as she raced through the doorway of his study her denim overalls covered in forest green paint splotches.
"Shhh! Shhhhh! Listen," Marcus directed flapping a hand toward a plush chair next to his desk. Emily slowly sunk into the seat her attention now directed to the anchor on the wall.
"We now turn to the announcement," concluded the anchor and the screen changed to show a number of respectable elderly gentlemen standing on a stage with a single spokesman at a podium ahead of them.
"Today we announce," the man at the podium carefully began, "a breakthrough in human genomics which will have unknown benefits, and surely potential risks, for all of humanity. Our discovery is a watershed moment that will change the way humans will see themselves in the fabric of the universe. Before today, there was a humanity of the past. From now on there will be the humanity of the future. Today we announce that our study conclusively confirms the secret to immortality."
"What?" breathed Emily leaning forward in the chair.
"Through minor modifications to our genetic code we have decisively shown that we are able to halt the aging process completely. With a minor injection of a serum containing a rearranging sequence of DNA we have clinically verified volunteers to our study are no longer growing older. We propose to you today that barring unforeseen accidents, individuals are now able to live forever."
Marcus looked over at Emily who was wide-eyed still staring at the scientist on the screen. She blinked a couple of times in disbelief and then tore herself away from image to return an incredulous stare back at Marcus, "Oh my god, it's just like how you described it in your second book Marcus."
He glanced back toward the wall, "Yah, but I never dreamed it would happen in our life time Emily." His eyes widened and his face melted from shock into excitement, "Where do we sign up?"
Next Century
"Today we have the world renowned author and humanitarian Marcus Sarville as our guest on Public Face. Not only is he known for a long list of excellent literary works, but he was also number one thousand on the immortality conversion list. Welcome Marcus."
"Thank you Robert for having me on your program." The walls of the studio faded away and the varied live busts of millions of viewers appeared surrounding them seated in a vast virtual amphitheater. Marcus felt dwarfed in the now expanded space. It was impossible make out the faces in the distant rows. Most of his interviews were far more intimate then Public Face with only a few hundred viewers encircling the interviewer, interviewee and a hovering camera. But then that is the power of the Public Face one of the popular live shows on the planet. Which was exactly why Marcus pushed hard to get a spot.
Many of the nearby faces he recognized. His publisher was actually watching him this evening, surely curious why Marcus had been so keen to be interviewed by the popular Robert Scott. A few of his friends had also tuned in. And of course Emily, who was clearly comfortable on their sofa at home was being projected in the front row of the massive stadium. He smiled in her direction forgetting everyone else seated around him was also receiving the same image. "Oh well," he thought of his tender smile to his wife, "It just makes me more connected with the audience. And that is particularly important today." He turned again and reconnected with the host.
"Firstly, how does it feel to be forever forty?"
"Well, as you know yourself Robert," he began cautiously, "Being in a position of having life eternal is a most incredible blessing. My wife Emily," he briefly glanced in her direction again, "and I continue to revel in each other's company, enjoy our lives and our passions and continue to explore new ideas and places even after a hundred years of marriage. Having the extra time to learn and experience the world in a full and complete way is endlessly satisfying."
"That is well said Marcus. I certainly agree with your sentiment as do most of the converted. It has also given you plenty of time to write dozens of incredible stories. In fact your latest novel has out sold your entire back catalogue within just the first month of release. Quite incredible. How did you come up with the idea in the first place?"
Marcus steeled his nerve. This was not going to be an ordinary press junket. It was not going to be only about his latest novel. Someone needed to be the voice of reason and as no one else was stepping forward Marcus felt it was on his shoulders as a public figure to tell the world. "Well, Robert, please allow me to interrupt you for a moment. I know that is what your extensive audience is here to discover," Marcus raised his arms toward the stadium full of virtual faces, "but I just need a moment, if you will permit me, to talk a bit about the pervasive anxiety that we all know is casting a very negative hue across the idea of immortality."
"You, no doubt, are referring to the reactions of some to the ongoing concerns about population growth?" the host smoothly adapted to the change in topic, "So what are your opinions?"
"Well, I think the fears of the public are complete rubbish! Of course as the world gains millions upon millions of new conversions there will be an increase in the overall population of Earth, but that is no reason for the angry and sometimes vile protests we have seen during the last few years. It was not so long ago that society feared that seven billion inhabitants was overpopulation. Now, as we all know, that was a ridiculous belief. Society has continued to tumble along perfectly fine to a point in history where we now have twenty billion and counting with over a billion conversions.
I believe there is no known limit to the carrying capacity of the planet especially with the many elaborate measures and technological advances this past century has introduced. So even for one second to consider ending the immortality project and deny humanity the option to truly embrace an eternal life is a cruel and terrible thought. It is fine, if as individuals, people choose not to participate in the program, but to wholesale deny others to the wonders of the future because of a fear of some imagined uncertain crisis, it is absurd." Marcus paused briefly knowing he had thoroughly enraged a large segment of the view audience. There were many more frowns and head shaking throughout the audience.
"Instead," he began again with a gentler tone, "let us, all of us, our billions of creative minds, pull together and push humanity toward the next step in our journey. Let us find a sustainable way to extend our immortality out into the galaxy and maybe even out into the wider universe. If we truly believe there isn't enough room here on Earth, let us use this as motivation to drive humanity out beyond the cradle where our children are born and explore the vast expanses of space." Marcus breathed a sigh of relief releasing months of tension. He glanced over and saw the image of Emily clutching her hands to her heart. They had practiced the speech so many times together.
"Maybe the world will listen to reason?" Marcus thought as he allowed his eyes to wander across the millions of varied expressions staring back at him.
Next Millenium
"Marcus, there is an incoming message from Earth," Emily called out from the living room. After so many years together some actions had simply became instinct depending on a tone of voice or habitual pattern. He pretty much could read her mind now, as she once wished he could centuries earlier. Marcus immediately stood up from his desk in the study. He knew the message was not only for the both of them but also important. He hurried through the doorway into the living room.
Navigating the interior of Explorer Ten was simple. Its layout was an exact replica of their former home on Earth was. Every room was precisely squeezed into the spacecraft that had now supported their needs and wants for eight hundred years. And why not bring it all with them? They had been completely comfortable in their surroundings on Earth. Why not have that enjoyment forever? Besides, cosmetic changes were inevitable with Emily's endless supply of paint. And the many digital walls provides a greater sense of openness and travel than one might otherwise have on a tin can spinning its way into the outer reaches of the galaxy.
A man's image on the living room wall. It watched Marcus enter the room clearly waiting for his arrival. "Alright, I'm here. What's the message?"
The man looked back to Emily, "I have great news for you both. The Institute has successfully achieved physical energy transmutation. Devices are already being used to send even more converts out into space..."
"A what?" Marcus interrupted. The man paused politely. It was an adaptive program message. Live communication with Earth had been impossible for hundreds of years once the relay time became unmanageably long. The solution was one way messaging but with a built in adaptation algorithm which created the illusion the message's sender was aware of the goings on of the recipient's room without actually being there. The man on the wall was in a patient loop.
"A physical energy transmuter," she replied impatiently. Marcus continued to stare at her. "A P E T? Seriously, Marcus if you didn't keep burying your head in all those space exploration reports you might actually keep up with the latest in physics breakthroughs." She waved a hand to quiet his protest and turned back to the message, "Sorry about that, please carry on."
"He's not even real Emily," interjected Marcus rolling his eyes.
The man continued as requested, "We are sending devices to all of our explorers. In fact a PET kit should be already waiting outside for you. We really hope you enjoy your new freedom. Marcus. Emily. Have a wonderful life!"
The message faded from the wall. Marcus turned to Emily, "Okay explain."
"A PET is a complex device that converts matter into energy while maintaining the matters original complexity."
"Great we will be able to turn our couch into a ball of energy that doesn't dissipate and retains all of its couchiness. What do we need that for?"
"It's not for things Marcus. It is being used on humanity itself. True immortality. Indestructible energy. Exploration without boundaries."
Marcus' eyes widened, "Oh, I see. No more spaceship."
"No more spaceship. Now can I trust you won't get to close to a black hole?"
The wall flashed to life again. Centered was a flickering ball of light. Endlessly, swirling in upon itself. Unnervingly, it spoke with a woman's patient voice, "Emily. Marcus. I'm with your PET kit just outside your spacecraft. Would you care to join me?" The image faded.
"Was she smiling?" joked Marcus as they walked over to their front door. On the other side was the airlock and their now ancient space manoeuvering suits.
"Ha ha, very funny Marcus."
They opened the airlock of Explorer Ten. Outside just drifting alongside the hull of the spacecraft was a great ball of pulsating energy.
"I guess that's it, is it?"
"Yes Marcus," came the woman's voice into his headset. She continued talking to both of them as they slowly maneuvered themselves toward the PET. They paused as requested readying for entry into the device. Emily reached out a thickly gloved hand toward Marcus. He caught it and nervously squeezed it one final time.
"Alright Emily. I am ready for you," started the voice, "Please proceed into the device." Emily gently released Marcus and began thrusting toward the sphere of pulsing energy.
"I love you Emily," Marcus blurted out.
"I know Marcus, I love you too." Emily's silhouette shimmered as she slipped into the glow.
Marcus suddenly felt a deep pang of loneliness drifting in the vast void of space. Tiny points of light surround him in every direction. It was his first time alone in a dozen ages of mankind. His nerves began to fray as the time passed waiting his turn.
Just as he thought something might have gone wrong the operator's calm voice returned, "Marcus. Are you ready? It is time to enter the PET."
Marcus inhaled deeply. He stared at the energy swirling ahead of him. Nervously he jetted his tiny thrusters propelling himself forward toward the light. As he approached the orb a familiar voice lightened his heart, "Oh my god Marcus! This is absolutely incredible! Hurry up will you! We can now see and experience everything!"
Marcus felt the warm glow of relief and grinned widely as he was absorbed into the orb.
Monday
The morning paper hit the snow at the head of the Shepard's driveway with a muffled thud. Its clear plastic cover just barely poking up from the snowline as a subtle beacon for the homeowner to find. Mr. Sheppard, rutted in routine, almost immediately opened his front door. His boots were lazily stuffed onto his feet and a jacket was tossed carelessly over his shoulders. He trudged through the snow covering his driveway toward the plastic flag in the snow.
He reached down grabbing the bundle. He banged the snow from it against his thigh. In the corner of his eye he noticed along the shoulder of the road a pair of footprints, slightly drifted over, approaching his property and then abruptly turning around and returning up the road. Blinking away his early morning blurry vision he noticed an odd commotion from farther along the road. In the distance he could see a cluster of vehicles. He frowned as he noticed several were police cars. Curiosity over took his normal routine habits. Mr. Shepard trudged down the road parallel to the mysterious tracks.
As he approached the scene one of the regional police officers walked over to greet him, "Can I help you sir?"
"Um," replied Mr. Shepard, "I'm Robert Shepard. I, um, just live back there," he turned to point out his farm house. "I was just wondering?" He glanced around the scene and suddenly noticed a crumpled car in the ditch just beyond one of the police cars. He frowned.
The officer turned to look in the same direction, "Drunk driver Mr. Shepard. He went off the road sometime last night."
Mr. Shepard look closely at the tangle of parts, "Did they survive?"
"Bumps and scratches only. But then that's always the way isn't it. It's always the victims who suffer." Mr. Shepard suddenly gazed at the officer. Nervous tension building in his heart. The officer frowned, "Sir, were you familiar with Mr. and Mrs. Sarville?"
"Um, yes. They live just here." Mr. Shepard pointed to the house just off the road with an old beater of a car buried under the evening's snow. "Marcus and Emma or Amy or..." he stammered trying to find the name.
"Emily?"
"Yes that was it, why?"
"Well, sir, I have some rather bad news for you."